


Until The Last Breath

by ForgottenChesire



Series: Whispered Death A Collection Of Sad Soulmark AU's [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, soul mark au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:09:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6563899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron likes slipping into muggle bars where no one knows his name. Where no one knows who he knows. Then one night after he and Hermione break up Draco finds him. Draco the blond prat that cause so many problems. Draco the blond prat that made him hope he could be more during fourth year just for a bit. After that things start falling together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until The Last Breath

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sad fic that was supposed to be Ron/Draco/Harry that ended up being Ron wanting to be with Harry and Draco but only getting Draco. I've messed with canon a bit, you'll be able to see where , and there will be three chapters to this fic. However I don't know how quickly the other two will come about and the fic is perfectly ended, in my evil opinion, where it is.

It’s easy to fall into memories of the past; to stew in the good moments and the bad.

* * *

 

_ “Ron… I-” _

 

_ “No, no, it’s okay. I never expected us to last. Don’t look at me like that. You’re too good for me ‘Mione. You know that I know that, hell the whole bloody world knows I’m a complete wanker. And wankers like me don’t deserve wonderful people like you.” _

 

_ “Oh, Ron… Look at me, Ronald. You are not a complete wanker. You can make a person go around the bend sometimes but… but you deserve to be happy too.” _

* * *

 

With a heavy shake, Ron lifts his head, dispelling the memories, and looks around the muggle bar he has come to enjoy. There is just something about the anonymity of these places he has come to enjoy. Here no one knows his name. Here they don't ask him why Hermione isn't at his side. Here they don't ask questions about his best mate and what it was like growing up as The-Boy-Who-Lived's friend. And what's not to love about that when you're three weeks into a break-up that neither part feels too shook up about? Hell, Ron’s shocked they lasted as long as they did before ‘Mione grabbed his hand and looked at him like he was made of glass.

 

_ “We just… we aren’t clicking. It’s not working.” _

 

That is what she said, searching his eyes for something, maybe she had wanted him to fight for them but he hadn’t. He wonders what it says about him, about how he treated her for them to slip back into just friends. To where it doesn’t feel odd to sleep in a different room. That sharing the two room flat doesn't feel like walking through a bogart trapped room without a wand. It's almost too easy to slip into the role of friend. And, he thinks bitterly, it's that ease that has him hiding in the bottom of a tankard.

 

_ He was in love with her, wasn’t he? _ Bringing the tankard to his lips he answers himself, that yes he had loved her but he hadn’t  _ loved _ her. Not like she deserves to be loved. Not like her new beau will. She thinks she’s being sneaky but he knows those smiles. He used to be the one causing them after all. His mood spurs a bit, he shouldn't be this okay with the thought of her dating someone else, right? Instead of wanting to make sure the person sending her owls makes her happy, like he would have done to Ginny had he known she was dating, he should be upset, right? It’s not good to let his thoughts wander the direction they are, but sometimes it’s like they are their own being.

 

He shakes his head roughly, standing up to order another pint. While he waits, his right hand comes to scratch at one of his Marks. Part of him hopes that his and Hermione’s amicable break-up means she’s not one of his Marks, but part of him wishes she is. He thinks he knows the identity of one of them, he knows the messy script like it’s his own, but the other one is in the standard Times New Roman font… it could belong to her, it could belong to anyone. With a huff, he takes the tankard that is slowly placed in front of him. The bartender is giving him a worried look so Ron flashes a smile and goes back to his booth.

 

He’s close to giving up on drowning his nagging thoughts when someone slides into the seat opposite of him. His sight is blurry so it takes awhile to see more than just blond hair and grey eyes.

 

“A muggle bar, Weasel?”

 

Oh, how he knows that voice, that sneer so present in his voice that it’s too easy for his drunk mind to picture even as he’s staring down at his drink.

 

“Malfoy.”

 

He pushes away of Fourth-Year. Of quick touches and even quicker kisses. Of wanting something for himself, of wanting to be seen as himself. Of wanting to be more than the Weasley dragging his friends down into the dirt. Of the shouting match when the first event ended.

* * *

_ “It’s not fair is it Weasel? All he has to do is live and the world falls at his feet. But us? We have to fight and claw at others just to get even looked at.” _

 

_ “Yeah.” _

 

_ “Without even meaning to he steals from us... He does, Weasel, he does. He has Hermione at his side, doesn’t he? Instead of her being by yours. He has your parents eating out of his hand because of your sister. But… It’s okay because I have  _ **_you_ ** _ and you have me. You are  _ **_my_ ** _ Weasel and I am yours.” _

* * *

 

“What can I say, the beer is good.”

 

Draco snorts, stealing the tankard from Ron’s hand. The look of disgust that comes onto the blond’s face is one of beauty and Ron doesn’t even try to fight the laugh that bubbles up. Neither says anything, though Draco does come to sit beside him while they drink until closing time. They lean on each other while Ron calls a cab, apparating while drunk is not a good idea, to take them to his flat. He doesn’t question whether or not Draco will want to sleep over, what Hermione will think or any other detail he probably should be thinking, he just knows that those three hours of silence were the best time he has had in awhile. Together they stumble up into Ron’s flat. It’s only when they are in his room that Draco speaks again.

 

“I didn’t know you still felt like this for me.”

 

Ron rolls his eyes with a fond smile and pushes the blond onto the bed.

 

“Shut up Ferret. We are both too long for the couch and I don’t fancy sleeping the floor.”

 

The next morning he wakes alone. He tries to tell himself that it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t feel that way for Draco anymore. But just like everything he tells himself; that he’s worth something, that he doesn’t wish  _ he _ was the one to die, that he does deserve happiness, he doesn’t believe it. He stumbles out into the hall, hand thrown out for balance, and goes down the hall into the small kitchenette. Waiting for him is a very unimpressed Hermione, her hands are on her hips and her right foot is tapping the ground.  _ Tap, tap, tap, pause. Tap, tap, tap, double tap _ , it causes his head to throb. She reminds him of his mother which makes him cringe back like a scolded child.

 

"Draco Malfoy was here," she states with the calmness of one way past pissed. He curls into himself.

 

"He didn't say anything bad to you did he?" He asks softly. Hermione sniffs.

 

"No, he was pleasantly civil. I nearly jinxed him though, as I wasn't expecting him to be here."

 

"You nearly jinxed him on principle," he says with a soft snort.

 

"You know me so well."

 

She smiles at him until she sees that he is looking around her. There is no Draco looking ruffled about being talked about like he isn’t there. Not that Ron expected him to be.

 

“Ron?” her voice is cautious and curious all at once. Somehow he doubts this is how other people would respond. He gives her a small forced smile.

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

This time the silence that settles around him is uncomfortable and almost suffocating compared to the one he shared with Draco. His answer doesn’t seem to satisfy her as she stares at him while he slowly makes a hangover cure and breakfast. She’s still staring at him when he stands to put his dishes in the sink. He clears his throat awkwardly.

 

"So uh... do you have anything you need?" He asks her feeling self-conscious under her gaze.

 

"I want to know why Draco Malfoy was in  _ our  _ kitchen, drinking water out of the faucet like a  _ muggle _ ."

 

Ron looks away from her, his hand coming up to scratch at his neck. How does he explain it? How does he tell her that he  _ dated _ the person who enjoyed bullying her? How does he tell her he kissed the lips of a Death Eater, of the man whose aunt tortured her? How does he tell her that Draco holds a place in his heart just as big as the one she has only deeper? He starts like a cat when he feels her grab his hand. Her look of irritation is replaced by one of concern as she uses her other hand to soothe the irritated side of his neck, thankfully he didn’t break the skin.

 

“Talk to me?”

 

“We had a drink together, well more than one but you know what I mean.”

 

“And he just came home with you?”

 

“We were both pretty pissed, so yeah I dragged him home with me.”

 

“He didn’t fight you? He just followed you?”

 

Ron doesn’t understand why she’s caught up on that fact. She’s been drunk before, she knows the thought of a bed is damned alluring.

 

“Yes?” he draws out the ‘s’ a bit. She raises an eyebrow, her lips pinched.

 

“Does he make you happy?”

 

The randomness of the statement has him flinching back. He also doesn’t like the grim look on her face. It was just a drink, after all, nothing more. Not like Draco will become a staple in their life. Hermione grabs his face in her hands before he can talk, bringing their heads together so that she can rest her forehead on his. There is a manic look in her eyes. They both have nightmares; about the war, about Malfoy Manor, about so many things. Hers are about Bellatrix and his are about Greyback. They’ve woken each other up with them enough times for him to know this look. Had seeing Draco brought something up? He searches her face for clues, he knows that while she likes to be the type to forgive and forget she has trouble forgetting their time at Malfoy’s home.

 

“If he hurts you, I will kill him and I have friends who will help me get away with it,” her voice is almost cold with a chilling undercurrent of excitement. She wants a reason to strike back at someone connected to the monster in her nightmares.

 

“It’s not like that ‘Moine,” he tells her. Hermione removes her hands with a huff and shakes her head.

 

“Males!” she exclaims walking away from him which leaves him confused and antsy. With a shake of his head, he washes the dishes he dirtied and together they go about their day.

 

Nothing of note really happens until Monday. He’s at  _ Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes,  _ manning the register when a loud commotion catches his attention. The next thing he knows, harry is in front of him practically vibrating. The black haired man looks healthier that he has in awhile. His skin no longer rivals a corpse, there are no more black bags under his eyes, and bloody hell, that smile! It makes his knees weak and his heart flutter. It makes him smile back without a thought. And Merlin above does it remind Ron of feelings he’d like to forget he has for the other.

* * *

_ "You have to promise not to tell mum." _

 

_ "Why would I tell her?" _

 

_ "Because you're Percy! You're the responsible one who's always tattling on us!" _

 

_ "I promise I won't tell mother unless what you say will get you hu- Ron?" _

 

_ "I-I hand a dream bout Harry last night." _

 

_ "That's perfectly normal. He's your friend." _

 

_ "It... it wasn't that kind of dream, Percy. We... were... you know...  _ **_kissing_ ** _." _

 

_ "Oh. Oh!" _

 

_ "I didn't think I could talk to the twins about this. They'd laugh or worse, tell Harry! It's not natural is it Percy? I'm... I'm broken aren't I?" _

 

_ "NO! You are  _ **_not_ ** _ broken, it is perfectly natural, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise." _

* * *

Ron mentally shakes himself, half listening to Harry as he says they need to talk. Signalling to George that he’s taking a break to talk to Harry, he steps away from the register and leads them into the storeroom.

 

“What’s up mate? Something wrong with Ted-”

 

“I asked her to marry me!” Harry interrupts with a shout. The shout startles Ron a bit and adds a backdrop to the sound Ron is sure is his heartbreaking. He swallows thickly.

 

“What?”

 

“Ginny. I asked her to marry me! And she said  _ yes _ !! I want you to be my best man. Will you?”

 

“Of course,” he says, his mouth moving without his heart’s permission. Harry lets out a shout of glee, wraps his arms around Ron’s waist and spins them about. The redhead basks in the closeness, the obvious happiness, and excitement of his friend.

 

“I’m happy for you mate,” he whispers. And he is. Because Harry deserves to be happy after the shit life he’s had. They talk for a bit longer, about Teddy, about work, about Ginny. Then he is forced to watch Harry walk away, any deeply hidden dreams of Harry seeing him as anything but a friend dying with silent screams. He can’t get his lungs to function as Harry’s robes swish out of view. Dimly he hears George's whoop of happiness, Harry must have told him the news. But Ron is past knowing, past caring, as his mind decides to betray him. His hands scratch at his Marks, breathing erratic and lip stinging from him biting it to keep from making sounds, Ron scolds himself for the dying dreams he is mourning. He should be happy for Harry. For his friend who is like a brother. 

 

A  _ brother _ , that is what Harry is... No matter what his pubescent heart wanted, no matter how much the words on his neck, those cruel red and gold words, look like Harry's writing; Harry. Is. His. Brother. Not one of his two Soulmates. Harry can't be his because he isn't worthy of Harry. And what kind of selfish prick is he to have two Soulmates instead of one? How stupid is he to think that anything Greyback said before was true or had anything to do with Harry? He shivers, just thinking the name drags him to places he doesn't want to go.

 

"Ron? Shit... come on little brother, focus on me! Angelina get Hermione!"

 

_ Hermione, he can hear her screaming. Oh, Merlin, he can hear her screaming. She's screaming and his traitorous mind has Draco holding the wand. Draco wouldn't though, not if he refused to identify them. It has to be the crazy aunt. It has to be. Only logic isn't making the images in his head go away. The door opens, screams louder than before, they echo in his mind. Ron looks expecting his rat turned human, only it isn't. It's Fenrir, the man who wants to turn Hermione, the one who ruined Professor Lupin's life. The werewolf's grey eyes light up with sadistic glee and he licks his lips. _

 

_ "Oh this is just too good," the werewolf growls approaching. _

 

"Ron!"

 

"Hermione?" Ron asks stiltedly, staring at Hermione. Still halfway in his memory, his nightmare. It'd be so easy to fall back into it. She seems to realize this as she grabs the side of his neck. The touch stings slightly but he ignores it in favor of savoring the grounding feeling of his forehead against hers.

 

"Stay here with me, Ron. You're safe, you're not wherever you think you are," she whispers, her fingers running down the back of his neck. Slowly he comes back to the present. Focusing on Hermione's voice, which is thick with emotion, and her face helps.

 

"You're crying..."

 

Hermione laughs softly, her eyes closing for a moment.

 

"Of course you'd notice that," she says with a huff of fond exasperation.

 

“What else should I have noticed?”

 

“How about the fact that you are bleeding?!” George interjects making Ron jump a little. Hermione tightens her grip on him, making sure he doesn’t pull away and Angelina smacks George’s arm.

 

“George,” she hisses.

 

“Don’t you George me, Angelina,” George hisses back, “my little brother is bleeding and I don’t know why!”

 

Ron pulls back from Hermione who reluctantly lets him go. His hands reach up feeling the side of his neck curiously. While it isn’t the first time something like this has happened he still flinches at the feel of blood. He hunches up his shoulders, face showing the pain the action causes him and looks away.

 

“Sorry,” Ron mumbles into his knees.

 

“I… damn it, I don’t want apologies little brother. I want to know why.”

 

Despite the gentle voice George uses, the air grows tense. Hermione, sweet, blessed Hermione knows he won’t talk with an audience so she leaves the room taking Angelina with her. Ron curls up tighter, his hands clenching at his knees.

 

“Can’t explain why exactly… Just happens. I see or hear or smell or even bloody touch something and I get flung into a memory,” he mutters, “and when that happens I scratch.”

 

It’s quiet and he’s sure that George has left him. He wouldn’t blame his brother for it. But then there are hands touching his face, making him look up. George is looking at him so softly, it’s a strange look on the older man’s face. His brother casts a spell or two, cleaning up his neck.

 

“And Harry telling you he proposed to Ginny caused this,” it’s not a question, but Ron feels the need to explain. Because it wasn’t  _ just _ Harry. There is a boulder in his throat and the only way to remove it is to talk about something he’s only ever told Percy. And Merlin knows he can’t talk to Percy now, not when his brother isn’t allowed near sharp objects or his wand. Not when Percy barely even responds to the owls he gets from people talking about happy things.

 

“It’s more than that… Harry, he’s choosing Ginny,” Ron grimaces at how it sounds. Pathetic and whiny. George raises an eyebrow.

 

“Of course he is. Who else would he have-”

 

“I have his handwriting on my neck,” Ron blurts out. “And I know that technically you don’t know for sure until someone dies but George, I’ve spent more than seven years reading that writing.”

 

George places a hand on his knee in comfort and encouragement.

 

“I used to dream about him. And I know that teenagers dream about a lot of things but I dreamt about having a family with him… Him and Draco. Together and happy, babysitting Ginny and whoever she was dating at the time’s kids. We were like mum and dad, happy and in love. Stupid I know. It confused me and yet I yearned for it so hard but at the same time I feared it.”

 

“Used to dream?”

 

Ron laughs humorlessly.

 

“I don’t dream much anymore, George. It’s nightmares or nothing now.”

 

His older brother doesn’t say anything at first, just squeezes his knee. Then George pulls him in for a hug and the dam breaks. Everything pours out. From his conflicting feelings about Harry, about Draco, about Hermione and every little thing between. Including how it took him a long time to feel comfortable calling himself bi. Saying everything feels like he’s removed the world from his shoulders.

 

Tearfully, Ron tells George about how sure he was that Harry wasn’t dead because his Mark hadn’t burned nor had it been said. He tells his brother about the moment of absolute fear that maybe he had his Mark wrong. From there it goes to him putting his feelings for Harry on the back burner, even though he had hoped Harry would say something.

 

“I’m a git, I know. Why would he say anything? As far as he knows I’m straight,” he says into his brother’s shirt. “I could have spoken up, but I didn’t want to chance anything.”

 

George bless his soul doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pulls back and subtly asks if he can read the words that are inked into Ron’s neck. When Ron gives the okay George reads them.

 

“Draco won’t be a happy ending,” George reads out a bitter taste in his mouth. Like Ron, he knows the handwriting in which the red and gold words appear in.

 

“We got into a fight Fourth-Year and I spent it terrified I’d say something to get that response. And that was before he knew that me and Draco had sorta dated.”

 

The older Weasley hums turning Ron’s head to see the other Mark.

 

“I won’t leave you ever again, Weasel.”

 

It’s not much better than the other one, Ron knows but it gives him hope that he won’t be alone in the end. And while he finds Draco, the only one to ever call him Weasel, attractive that doesn’t mean anything. Hell, he can name a good amount of men and women he finds just as attractive as Draco who could theoretically start calling him that. Draco just so happens to be the one who will piss the other Soulmate off.

 

“Well Malfoy isn’t the worst name to have inked into your skin,” George tries to joke. Ron looks away and attempts to cover up the red and gold Mark. George tsks and rolls up his sleeve. There on his forearm is a circle of words. Ron can’t remember a time when that circle hadn’t been there, he’s just never read them.

 

“At least you don’t have your twin’s handwriting mixing with another’s. I guess us Weasleys are luck in the handwriting department,” the older Weasley says slowly. Ron runs his fingers over them, marveling at the smoothness that contradicts the grey and scarred looking skin.

 

“Angelina has our writing on her hips. The thing to remember is that you can’t lose them until they are dead. And Harry could be a platonic Soulmate,” George messes up Ron’s hair playfully. “Besides, a little birdie told me that a certain blond was spotted in your flat.”

 

“It’s not like that!” Ron groans in response to the over the top eyebrow wiggle his brother does.

 

“Well, he didn’t jinx you before or after you two got pissed, and he was civil to ‘Mione so that hints at friendship. That’s a good thing.”

 

George waits for Ron to smile before talking again.

 

“Now that that is settled, we need to figure out a way to keep you from scratching yourself bloody.”

 

“I don’t mean to do it.”

 

“Don’t worry your precious head about it. I’m sure me and Hermione can come up with something if we put our heads together… Don’t you get that constipated look on your face Ronniekins! You can trust us.”

 

And just like that, the sad, tense air evaporates and Ron playfully launches himself at his older brother. They roughhouse until a throat clears. Hermione is looking at them fondly as they stop.

 

“Might I sweep Ron away for the rest of the day?” she asks.

 

“I don’t need to be coddled or swept away. I can finish my shift,” Ron protests, trying to break out of the headlock his brother has him in.

 

“Of course. I can handle the shop. Take care of him, yeah?”

 

“I’m fine,” Ron says, one last attempt at protesting.

 

“Well, I’m starving. So come eat with me, Ronald. Please.”

 

The fact that she can channel his mother so well isn’t cool. Add that to the fact she only really uses his full first name when she’s trying to get him to take her seriously has him meekly offering his arm. Hermione takes it with a pleased smile. Together they walk to one of the newer restaurants that popped up in Diagon Alley after the war. It’s nice and homey, the lighting just right to help him relax after walking through the crowds outside. Their waiter is excited and puppy like, clearly over the moon to be serving them. The prices of the food have him squirming. Merlin, he feels guilty ordering because he knows that Hermione will want to pay the check since she invited him out. The food, when it comes, is good and the company better. The puppy waiter comes back, too soon for it to be the check, with less bounce in his step. Timidly the waiter hands over a note.

 

“I was asked to give this to you. And I checked for curses myself,” he assures Hermione puffing out his chest. After Hermione takes the note the waiter scurries off. Ron watches as she reads it. When she finishes reading it she hands it over to Ron with a chuckle.

 

> _ Ms. Granger,  _
> 
> _ I would like to extend an offer to you. Should you choose to, I am willing to pay for a meal, no matter the cost, the next time you come here. I would have picked up the tab for your current visit, however, I remember your left hook and do not wish to become acquainted with it. Simply show this to the Maitre D’hotel and they will know what to do. _
> 
> _ DM _

Ron quickly glances up, searching the restaurant for Malfoy. His shoulders slump when he can’t find the other male. Hermione is looking at him guardedly, whether it’s because she’s expecting another episode or dreading having to deal with Draco should he pop up, Ron isn’t sure. He clears his throat.

 

“So, you going to take him up on this?” he asks.

 

She shrugs her shoulders.

 

“You can bring Krum here ya know. Order the most expensive, pretentious thing on the menue,” he says casually, smiling when she twitches.

 

“It is Krum that has been making you smile with all them owls right?”

 

“Maybe,” she deflects. They both know it doesn’t work. Ron pats himself on the back for knowing that it is Krum making her happy. He laughs and she follows him.

 

“Good, he’ll treat you as you should be,” he says with a nod. When Hermione doesn’t speak, instead just stares at him, he fidgets.

 

“I mean, he makes you happy, right? And he ain’t gonna hurt you. He proved that Fourth-Year with how gentle he treated you after everything. He- he was better to you that year than I was and-”

 

“I understood what you meant Ron,” she cuts off his ramble, “I’m… just a bit shocked you are taking it this well. It hasn’t been that long. And, well, it is  _ Krum _ .”

 

“That year wasn’t my best year… It’s when I got my Marks and I just didn’t handle it right. But I,” he pauses and looks at her with a lopsided smile, “I was… protective of the things I knew because in my eyes everything else was changing. Not that excuses my actions of course. I like to think that I’ve matured from then.”

 

Hermione reaches out with one hand to his hand, the other she raises to signal for the check.

 

“You are, and so is Malfoy,” her nose crinkles as she says the name, “as much as it pains me to say it.”

 

“What makes you say that?” Ron asks, fighting to keep hope from his voice. Hermione just smiles a secretive little smile and when the check comes they get up from the table.

 

They say time heals all wounds and Ron is starting to believe it. It’s been two months since he unloaded all his feelings and it’s like he is lighter than ever. Not even the upcoming wedding is doing much to damper his mood.  _ And _ , Ron thinks looking at Draco who is trying to hide behind the love potion rack,  _ the addition of Malfoy to my days is a nice touch. _ The blond seems to enjoy appearing at odd times. Sometimes he’s here at the shop where he buys the oddest assortment of goodies, sometimes it’s at whatever muggle bar Ron has chosen for the night, and on a very rare occasion, they cross paths doing everyday things and stop and chat for awhile. Draco ambles up to the counter, a vial of love potion, a Nose-Biting Teacup and a pair of Extendable Ears in his hands. Ron raises an eyebrow at it all as he rings up the items.

 

“I’m not going to actually use it on anyone.”

 

“I didn’t say you were,” Ron laughs at the slightly defensive tone the other takes.

 

“Your face did.”

 

Ron laughs, enjoying the sound of Draco chuckling with him. Then almost hesitantly the blond explains.

 

“A prank is only good when others know about it. The actual potion will likely go down the drain but the bottle, with its signature Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes logo, along with the tea cup will make brunch with my mother’s associates more entertaining.”

 

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” Ron jokes before telling Draco the price of his purchases. As he watches the blond leave the store he wonders if Draco knows that his robes do nothing to hide the shape of his ass and instead make it very grabbable looking. 

 

The repeated random appearances of Draco does not, however, prepare him for coming face to face with the man outside his flat a week later. The blond has a box in his hands, body bent to place it on the ground.

 

"Weasel, you're home early."

 

Ron blinks at Draco, who clears his throat, not quite knowing how to respond. Before he knows it, the box is shoved into his hands and then Draco is fleeing down the hallway. Hermione laughs when he enters the flat.

 

"I take it that you had a run in with Draco."

 

"How can you tell?"

 

She points at the neatly wrapped box.

 

"Not the first time I've found a box outside our flat. He isn't as sneaky as he likes to think he is."

 

Ron looks down at the box not too sure how to take that either.

 

"Normally it's notes with chocolate. The good stuff I share with you. It's his way of apologizing, I think," she continues with a shrug of her shoulders, "The notes are, of course, sprinkled with Malfoy charm."

 

There is something in the way she says that that has him huffing a laugh.

 

"You've only just started reading the notes haven't you?"

 

Hermione sniffs mock haughtily.

 

"He's a prat, but one you like if the constant platonic sloshed sleepovers are any indication. Now, what's in the box?"

 

Ron sets the box down on the table. A little white tag catches his attention, his name is written on it in crisp cursive. With slight hesitation, he opens the present. The fabric of the present, dress robes, is so silky and soft that Ron moans as he pulls it out of the box. A little note flutters out but Ron is too busy rubbing the fabric on his face to notice. Hermione watches as he fondles the piece of clothing and she smiles. 

 

"Do you think they will fit?" he asks.

 

"He had your measurements, so they should."

 

"How the bloody hell did he get my measurements?"

 

"Do you think you'll be taking him to the wedding?" Hermione asks dodging the question. Ron sighs.

 

"'Mione the wedding is five-"

 

"Six."

 

"Six months away. We aren't even dating! We're at best tentative friends. That is thinking too far ahead."

 

"Ron," Hermione starts with that deep breath in her voice that says he's being pessimistic. He puts the dress robes down on the table.

 

"Even if I asked Draco as just a friend, you know Harry wouldn't be happy."

 

Hermione moves to his side of the table so she can touch his hand gently.

 

"If by some miracle we start dating, I can just imagine his reaction. Harry forgave Draco sure but he still dislikes him."

 

"Then introduce Draco to your family. See how they react, be it to you two platonically or romantically," she says, her hand cupping his face, "Ron, I know you. I know what it looks like when you want something. And you want Draco in your life. Your family will be a buffer and help convince Harry, Draco isn't a tosser anymore."

 

"I do want him in my life but-"

 

"No buts. Chase this. You deserve to be happy."

 

“You keep saying that.”

 

“I’ll stop when you believe it,” she says giving the top of his head a kiss. He swats at her playfully before going to put up the robes. The note is left on the table forgotten.

 

Two days later there is a knock on the door. Ron is expecting George or even Charlie on the other side. Both are eager to help him find the perfect venue for Harry’s bachelor party. It’s not either of those two though, instead, it’s Draco. The blond is standing there wearing semi-fancy clothing and looking out of place.

 

“Draco?”

 

The blond clears his throat.

 

“I take it you did not get my note?”

 

Ron barely has time to parrot ‘note’ back at Draco before Hermione is there.

 

“You’re early,” there is a mixture of reproach and happiness in her voice, “don’t just stand there, let him in!”

 

Like a whirlwind, Hermione has them set up with food and drinks.  _ Should she ever team up with his mother, _ Ron thinks as he takes in the light snacks before him,  _ the world would be doomed. _

 

"You two behave," is called over her shoulder as she leaves and Ron even sees her wink at him. Well, this explains why she nagged him about his clothes.

"She is as subtle as a Blast-Ended Skewt," Draco remarks once he is sure that Hermione won't barge in without warning. A laugh bubbles up at that.

 

"Yeah," he agrees, "so what note were you talking about?"

 

"The one I left with your present."

 

Ron clears his throat in embarrassment, vaguely remembering seeing it fall out of the box.

 

"You didn't read it did you?"

 

"No," he drags out the word a little bit looking away from Draco.

 

The blond shakes his head with a snort. Ron watches the other remembering a time when Draco would get angry about him messing up like that. And unlike a Weasley’s fiery anger that flared up but died down quickly, a Malfoy’s anger- or at least Draco’s- was a cold flame that burned and froze with a bitter chill. The fact that Draco just smiles, almost shyly despite how that makes Ron’s head turn, is a mark of how he has grown.

 

“I was wondering if you would like to go out with me, today. Nowhere too fancy but better than the dives we’ve been running into each other at.”

 

Ron shifts, his fingers twitching with the want to scratch.

 

“That… that would be nice.”

 

“I promise things will be better than before.”

* * *

 

_ “You what!?” _

 

_ “I made up with Harry. It was stupid of me to be mad at him in the first place. Merlin, Harry ain’t one to jump into danger like that. And he wouldn’t lie about something dangerous either.” _

 

_ “Please Weasel, he is a show-off and a pompous ass. Of course, he would lie to you.” _

 

_ “You’re a show-off and a pompous ass too, does that mean you’ve been lying to me too?” _

 

_ “I always knew you were slow but even this is bad… Go away before I hex you.” _

 

_ “Draco-” _

 

_ “No! I could stomach sharing you with that mu- with Granger. But I won’t share you with Potter. You have to choose!” _

 

_ “Why? Why could you share me with Hermione but not Harry?” _

 

_ “Because I don’t have to worry about Hermione stealing you away from me, not with Krum in the picture! Now, choose.” _

 

_ “He’s my best mate, Draco. I can’t just drop him, and I don’t think he’d steal me away. Plus Hermione already said that she doesn’t like Krum, she doesn’t like idiots so that argument is invalid.” _

 

_ “Then why is she friends with you?” _

* * *

Ron jumps a little when Draco touches his arm, dislodging him from his memories. Nasty things that they are. Draco is looking at him like the blond is trying to memorize every feature that makes Ron, Ron.

 

“I’m still a pompous show off asshole and I’ll likely piss you off more than once,” Draco says with a rueful smile. Ron rests his forehead on Draco’s.

 

“I’m still slow on picking up social cues.”

 

Going out is put on the back burner, instead, they stay in. They talk and hold hands and reconnect. When Hermione comes in that night, slipping in like a rebellious teenager, she finds them curled together on the much too short sofa. She laughs softly, committing the image of Draco holding Ron like a teddy bear to her memory. The thing about being the brightest Witch of her generation is that sometimes she realizes things before others. Like the fact that while Ron liked both genders he prefered males. That while he loved her, his first loves would always hold more of his heart. With one last look at the duo she leaves them to their cramped awakening, mentally planning on buying a camera should Draco become a permanent fixture in their flat. The matchmaker in her hopes he does. It’s been too long since Ron has looked that peaceful in his sleep.

 

Days turn to weeks and first dates become second dates become habit. Hermione still isn’t Draco’s biggest fan but they seem to be allies in torturing Ron with healthy food and eight hours of sleep sleeping schedules. She’s happy that he is happy. It’s like a fairy tale tailored to fit him.

 

"Do you want to be my plus one to my sister's wedding?" He asks on a lazy Saturday about a month away from the wedding. They've discussed the wedding before, Draco's eye for finery helping Ron break a tie when needed. Hermione smiles behind her teacup when he asks, though her eyes never leave the clock on the wall. Draco, on the other hand, starts to choke on the bite of food he had taken. Ron smacks the blond's back trying to help dislodge the blockage while Hermione rolls her eyes fondly, grabbing her wand to cast  _ Anapneo  _ to help.

 

"Why are you so shocked? I thought the second pair of dress robes you bought me was your way of hinting you wanted to go!"

 

"I was trying to spoil you with nice things, not bribe you into taking me!"Draco exclaims once he has his breath back. He gives Hermione his thanks, pushing his food away.

 

“Really, Weasel. I don’t mind if you go alone.”

 

“Do you not want to go?”

 

“That isn’t what I said-”

 

“Good. Up to meeting my parents then? And maybe meeting Ginny? Like officially.”

 

Draco pales and takes a quick sip of his tea. Ron waits for an answer, dreading it all the same. Was it too soon? Should he not have asked at all? While Ron’s attention is on Draco he misses Hermione stare Draco down, tapping her wand threateningly.

 

“Will they want me there? I’m pretty sure I’m high on their jinx list.”

 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. They need to get to know you. Sides for a while there, you were high on ‘Miones’s jinx list but you still came over.”

 

“Yes, well, there is only one of Kitty her and there are many of your family,” Draco says with a laugh. Ron feels his concern erode at the use of Hermione’s newest nickname.

 

“Hermione will be coming too, once she picks up Viktor.”

 

"Yes, don't worry Draco, I'll protect you," Hermione deadpans, laughing when he looks relieved to hear she will. Draco looks over at Ron.

 

“Are we going today?”

 

“I was going to, but if you want to go we can leave together at a later time. Mum has this whole three-day thing planned and we don’t have to stay through it all.”

 

Draco reaches out, grabbing Ron’s hand to stall any rambling. 

 

“Just let me pack and I’ll stay as long as you want me too.”

 

Hermione pretends to gag at the looks being exchanged in front of her.

 

“Alright, enough already, get a room,” she snaps playfully.

 

The rest of the breakfast passes too quickly for Ron, who despite putting on a brave face for Draco, is fearing how his parents and siblings will react. He uses the time that he has while Draco leaves to pack to try to get it all under control. He’s taking a big step. Reaching out for something for himself and so much can go wrong. No! He can’t think like that. He can do this. He can. He can. He c- he can’t. Oh Merlin’s beard, he can’t do this. What if Draco’s presence throws Percy into a fit? What if his parents are so angry at him, they kick him out? What if his siblings, barring George, hex first ask questions later? There are so many damn things that could go wrong. There are so many damn what if’s. Hermione is gone, left to pick up a few things before Krum arrives, so there isn’t anyone to stop his scratching as he goes over everything that could go wrong. He’s in that place between life and memory he misses the frantic knocking and consequent door being  _ Alohomora’d  _ open. Arms wrap around him, slowly grounding him. With deep breaths, he returns to the present.

 

“Are you back with me, Weasel?” Draco whispers.

 

“Yes… How-”

 

“Kitty gave me a bracelet after we were dating for two months. Told me it’d let me know if something was happening to you. I took it as her giving her blessing.” Draco rambles slightly, arm tightening its’ hold on Ron, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

 

“Yes, I want to. I really want to do this, it’s something for me, for us.”

 

“But you’re scared.”

 

Ron nods his head leaning into Draco.

 

“If you really want to do this, think of the people on our side. Like Kitty.”

 

“And George,” Ron whispers.

 

“George?”

 

The redhead runs his fingers along Draco’s arm.

 

“I didn’t react well to Harry telling me about the wedding at first. George caught me scratching and we talked. It felt so good to talk to someone again.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Before the War, I told Percy everything, I could trust him to make fun of me. But after Fred died, something broke inside Percy and it felt wrong to unload on him.”

 

Ron takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

 

“Would you like to read my Marks?” he asks. The sharing of Marks is special. From a young age Wizards and Witches are drilled on ignoring what another person’s Mark said. Even if the Mark is on a visible part of the body they should not be read without permission. Unless you were family but even then most Marks are ignored. This is a big step, and if Ron is being truthful, one that the therapist he used to see would kill him for making.

 

“I would love to,”

 

They pull apart, moving so Draco can see along with touch if wants to. The blond’s fingers are cool to the touch on his scratched heated skin. First Draco runs his fingers over the green and silver words then he does the same to the red and gold. Ron feels the twitch when the words register in Draco’s mind.

 

“Ron-”

 

“Don’t worry about it…”

 

“I think I’m allowed to worry considering what is said. And I’m sorry that I drive a wedge between you and one of your Soulmates.”

 

Draco kisses Ron’s temple.

 

“Don’t be,” Ron mumbles leaning into Draco so that he can clutch at the blond’s shoulders.

 

“I’m here to stay until you no longer want me.”

 

“Good.”

 

They separate long enough for Ron to grab his bag before joining hands. For better or worse they are going to be together. They decide to go the muggle way to the Burrow, to give Ron more time to center himself. As the Burrow comes into sight Ron inhales deeply. If he knows his mother she will be watching the clock that tells her where the family is like a hawk. Sure enough, the front door is thrown open as soon as he steps onto the porch and he is dragged into the house.

 

His mother smothers him in love, he melts into her touch.

 

“It’s so good to see you! You must come home more, Ronald. I miss you,” she says holding him by the shoulders.

 

“Sorry, mum. Maybe we can come over more often.”

 

“We? Did you and Hermione ge- Oh!”

 

Ron, who had stepped to the side so that she can see Draco, watches as his mother’s lips thin into a grimace. He can hear the general clamor of his family slowly quieting down. Draco stands in the doorway looking as uncomfortable as Ron is starting to feel. To show solidarity Ron goes to stand by Draco. The blond shifts them slightly, ignoring the eyes of nearly every single Weasley, so that one of Ron’s hands is trapped between their bodies and he is holding the other. George catches the move, an approving smile coming onto his face.

 

“Well, are we going to stare at them all day or invite them in?” he asks, walking over to smack the blond’s shoulder in a friendly manner. Still looking reserved Molly ushers the two further into the house. Ron looks over the assembled family.

 

“Where is Ginny?”

 

“Not here yet. Should be here before dinner though. Shame Harry couldn’t make it. He works so hard,” Molly says giving Draco a look as if he had something to do with Harry’s increased workload. She remembers her boys complaining about Draco when they were younger. Draco stays quiet, unsure of his footing. Conversation is stilted and the silence that falls is almost painful. The only good thing about it is the fact that Percy is smiling like the cat that got the canary. Ron wonders what they are seeing, what they are thinking during the pauses. Are they seeing Draco or are they seeing Lucius? Are they remembering the past? He can’t blame them for their hesitance, you can claim to forgive a person, see that they are changing and still be wary. That’s how you stay alive. But… but he wants them to see the blond as he does. Thankfully the subject of Quidditch is brought up and the ice breaks. Leave it to sports to bring them together. Molly stands, never one for the sport, leaving the room to prepare lunch. Ron follows her leaving Draco behind, hoping that George and Percy will keep the other from eating his boyfriend alive.

 

“Mum?”

 

Molly sighs softly, her hands are clutching the counter in a white knuckle grip.

 

“I’m trying to wrap my head around this, love. For so long I listened to you and Harry complain about that boy. He was a Death Eater, he’s hurt you before, not to mention the relation we’ve had with his father. And now? Now you two are dating. Couldn’t you have told me in a letter before dropping by?” she asks letting go of the counter and beginning to actually cook.

 

“Thought this was something you should hear from me not read in a letter,” he tells her moving to help her, “He’s changed, you know? Still a snarky, pompous asshole but… he makes me laugh, mum.”

 

Molly stops what she is doing and stares at her baby boy. She knows that tone of voice, she uses it when talking about Arthur. With another sigh she walks over to Ron, hugging him to her.

 

“I’ll give him a chance then. But no promises.”

 

Lunch goes over without a hitch and Ron is feeling better about bringing Draco here. It's a little odd, Ron thinks, that Draco keeps shooting Charlie worried looks. Neither one will tell him why though so he lets it lie for the time being. Hermione shows up a little after lunch, flushed and smiling, dragging Krum behind her. With the Quidditch talk over, Fleur captures Draco’s attention. The intense discussion they get into leaves Bill and Ron in the dust. Then there is a noise from the fireplace; Ginny strides out of it with a laugh. She’s radiant and glowing and Ron can’t help smiling. He ruthlessly squashes any lingering hurt or jealousy, Ginny should be this happy every day and Harry will make that happen. The smile leaves Ginny’s face almost as soon as she spots Draco.

 

“What is  _ he _ doing here?” she asks, her hand resting on her wand.

 

“Spending time with his boyfriend’s family,” Percy tells her. His tone reminiscent of a time before the War. Ginny raises an eyebrow, it’s clear then that she’s more surprised than angry that Draco is here.

 

“I thought you and Wood we-”

 

“Not me,” Percy says his cheeks red.

 

“He’s here with me, Gin,” Ron speaks up. He refuses to cringe, to hunch up, to allow the darker thoughts in his head to win. Ginny’s eyes narrow as she stares at Ron, then at Draco, assessing them.

 

“Has he hexed you?” she questions Ron.

 

“No.”

 

“Have you hexed  _ him _ ?”

 

“Ginny!” Molly scolds at the same time that Ron yells “No!”

 

Ginny hums slightly circling around Draco, who shuffles.

 

“The questions need to be asked. And he better not look better than  _ me _ at  _ my _ wedding… oh! And you have to tell Harry he’s coming. He is coming, right? Or are you going stag?”

 

Ron laughs, pulling Ginny in for a hug. He kisses the top of her head.

 

“I was wanting to take him with me yes. But if you hadn’t liked him I would have gone stag. So I will happily take that deal.

 

The rest of the evening pass with ease. It gives him hope that the wedding will go smoothly. He’s in such a good mood he barely protests Draco having to sleep out in the front room instead of with him, after all, Krum wasn’t being allowed to sleep with Hermione. Percy offers to let Draco room with him as does Charlie. The way Draco literally jumps to Percy’s side gets a laugh out of everyone.

 

When they leave two days later, Ron is smiling and laughing, Draco’s arm around his waist. He means to send an owl, to pick up the phone that Hermione insisted be installed in their flat, any means to talk to Harry, he means to do. But life gets away from him. A huge order comes into the shop that has George and him scrambling to fill it. In fact, it takes three of the four weeks until the wedding to do it. And then he gets pulled into Best Man duties, then it’s the Bachelor Party, and then suddenly it’s the actual wedding.

 

Ron paces his room agitatedly, Draco sits on the bed watching him.

 

“I can’t believe I forgot to tell him! Merlin, I’m an idiot,” he wheezes, hands in his hair.

 

“It’s not going to be that bad, and if it does end up that bad I will leave. Harry is forgiving, he saved my life so he can’t hate me,” Draco tells his frantic lover, “I thought it was the bride or groom who got cold feet, not the Best Man.”

 

Ron splutters a bit, looking wide-eyed at Draco.

 

“I am  _ not _ getting cold feet!” Ron feels his voice crack and winces, “I am not getting cold feet. And yeah, normally Harry is very forgiving and calm but Ginny says that he’s been spread thin. He’s snapping easier theses days.”

 

The blond stands walks over to Ron and cups the ginger’s face.

 

“Just breathe Weasel. Get dressed and what happens, happens.”

 

“You’ll be there with me,” Ron whispers leaning into Draco’s hand.

 

“Of course. Do you think I’d let Potter chase me away from you?”

 

“Ask me after the wedding,” Ron jokes weakly. Draco leans in kissing Ron, his thumb rubbing the ginger’s cheek.

 

“I can do that.”

 

Feeling a bit calmed down, Ron undresses quickly. His attempts to get redressed on the other hand is stalled as Draco comes up behind him. Long fingers stroke the scars on his back, reminding Ron that the blond hasn’t seen his back since they have been dating.

 

“What happened to cause these?” Draco asks, his voice wobbly.

* * *

 

_ “Leave him alone!” _

 

_ “Oh come now. I just want to play with him. If he’s lucky, I’ll bite him just like I plan to do with the mudblood.” _

 

_ “I don’t know what you want! I don’t know anything!” _

 

_ “Your mouth says one thing, little whore, but your scent says another. I know who you belong to, their scent is so thick on you I can barely smell the breeder in you, little whore. And tsk, tsk, giving your soul to more than one person, don’t you know that’s a good way to get hurt?” _

* * *

 

“Werewolves can apparently smell Soulmates,” Ron whispers with a shiver, “he wanted me to talk. He implied who they were and wanted me to confirm what he knew. Kinda unfair if you ask me that they can sniff their own out.”

 

Draco grimaces, ignoring Ron’s poor attempt at a joke.

 

“I thought I heard something under Kitty’s screaming. I’m sorry Weasel.”

 

“It’s fine, Ferret.”

 

“It is  _ not _ fine. Don’t say anything that happened in the War was fine just because you survived,” Draco snaps before looking away. Ron smiles tightly at him.

 

“I know that. Believe me. But there was nothing you could have done at the time to stop what Greyback did. Now let me get dressed.”

 

With a nod, Draco steps back. He watches as Ron gets dressed and when the redhead is finished dressing Draco sweeps him into a hug. Ron hugs him back melting into the touch.

 

“Come on Ferret, we have a wedding to go to.”

 

The wedding tents are grand and beautiful, just what his sister deserves. Hermione and Viktor- and isn’t it odd to call the man who he had admired by his first name- look dashing as they greet Ron and Draco at the main tent’s opening. They share smiles and greetings before splitting up. Hermione to find Ginny, Ron to find Harry while the other two go find good spots in the tent. Ron finds the groom pacing the length of the room he is in. Harry is muttering the words to vows under his breath. For a moment Ron allows himself to take in Harry. Merlin does Harry look so damned handsome in his wedding robes. His black hair is finally behaving, green eyes are sparkling in joy even with the nervousness the man must be feeling. With a thick swallow Ron shoves those thoughts away, he has Draco. Wonderful and perfect, or at least the perfect amount of imperfectness to be perfect Draco. Besides that, he is the brother of the bride. Harry is happy with Ginny. Ginny is happy with Harry. And he is happy with Draco, so happy that sometimes he feels like he’s in a dream. So he clears his throat and does the best he can to calm Harry down.

 

The wedding goes so slowly, allowing Ron to get lost in his thoughts as the preacher drones on. Ginny looks so radiant. The dress she ended up choosing fits her like a glove. It fits her so well that Ron has to fight the big brother urge to cover her up. Harry is staring at Ginny with all the love in the world. His Marks seem to tingle, it’s in his head he knows, but he searches for Draco in the crowd. The blond is standing in the back, beside Krum, perfectly fine. It knocks the breath out of him when notices that Draco is looking at  _ him _ like Harry is Ginny. Ron flushes and tunes in on his sister, who is using Quidditch analogies for her vows. Harry is grinning like a fool during it all and when it is his turn, he quotes the poem she wrote in her first year at Hogwarts. Something deep inside of him loosens. Like it took this moment to whatever sliver of him was still jealous to let go. And Ron is glad of it. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone and that is what will likely happen if he holds on to things that will never be.

 

The two kiss after their ‘I dos’. Ron pretends to gag at the sight, getting a laugh from everyone even the bride and groom. And that is when Ron thinks Harry spots Draco.

 

But since Harry doesn’t say anything, just frowns, Ron hopes everything is going to be fine. Draco is at his side when they sit down at the tables for the wedding dinner. It’s time for the speeches, then dancing and cake. The blond smiles at him encouragingly as he stands.

 

"So as Harry's Best Man it's my job to talk about him right? Which is hard to do because he's Harry. Who doesn't know Harry? But then I thought, some of you only know Harry: The boy who beat You-Know-Who, the Chosen One, and all those titles that give a man an inflated head. But you don't know  _ Harry _ . You don't know the scared kid who didn't know how to get into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The kid who weathered a poor boy's endless curiosity about tactless things. The boy who could have been popular, been powerful, been a bully, but chose the oddballs. The wonderful kid who without hesitation slipped a handmade jumper over his head with pride.  _ Harry _ who risked his life to save the woman- my sister- he has married. Harry, you are a great man, a wonderful man and my sister is a wonderful woman. You two deserve to be happy. Any fool with eyes can see the love that pours out of you, only a fool would be surprised that you two got married. It's disgusting sometimes how happy you two are. And despite the War or maybe because of it, you two are going to have your happily ever after. May the rest of us unlucky sods have a chance," Ron says looking directly at Harry. His heart is doing confusing things that he thought he was already over, healing and breaking all at the same time. With a smile, he raises his glass to Harry. Draco plants a kiss on his cheek when he sits down. Hermione gives her speech next, not that Ron really hears it with his attention on Draco.

 

After the speeches, the fun really begins. Dancing and general merrymaking. Ron is loving the dancing, so much better than when he was learning with Professor McGonagall. He’s danced with Draco, his mother, his sister, Hermione, George, Angelina and on one remarkable occasion Krum. The Bulgarian is still as amazing as he was the first time Ron had seen him, and he is happy that the man just may be joining the family if the way he makes Hermione happy is any indication. He’s laughing as he’s dancing with Charlie when he hears it. Ginny using her ‘listen to me now or be hexed’ voice. His heart stops when he sees Harry and Draco standing nose to nose.

 

“Shit,” he mutters making his way through the growing crowd. Ginny is looking angry and flustered. She shouldn’t look like that today. Not at her wedding.

 

“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice strained.

 

“ _ He _ was being rude,” Harry snaps pointing at Draco.

 

“All I said was that I was looking better than her and maybe I should be wearing the dress,” Draco says calmly, “then I said she could hex me as was implied.”

 

“You called her Ginge!” Harry huffs, his hands clenching.

 

“It’s a nickname, he was joking with her. Harry, it’s your wedding, let’s not fight,” Ron pleads.

 

“You’re taking his side?”

 

“There isn’t a side to take. Harry-”

 

“Look if it will stop the fighting I will leave. I’m not going to ruin Ginge’s day. Her and Kitty would kill me,” Draco tells Ron who is looking as upset as his sister.

 

“I’ll go with, just give me a second.”

 

“What!? Why? And why is he ever here?” Harry demands. Ginny rounds on Ron.

 

“You didn’t tell him?” she asks exasperatedly. Ron cringes.

 

“Work got busy. I was going to tell him… Why don’t we move this? Or just let us go, I don’t want to ruin your day any more than I already have.”

 

Harry looks around, notices all the staring and blanches. He looks at Ginny who is glaring at them all and hunches up his shoulders before nodding. Grabbing Ron’s shoulder Harry pushes the ginger out of the tent. Over his shoulder Ron sees Ginny keep Draco from following them, which Ron is thankful for.

 

"What didn't you tell me?" Harry asks getting straight to the heart of everything. The flickering of torches make the dark shadows under Harry's eyes look worse. Ron chalks him not noticing those earlier to the stress of the wedding.

 

"I'm dating Draco. Have been for a while. We're taking it slow but... It's nice," Ron answers softly.

 

"You've been dating Draco? What does Hermione think about this? Did you even think about her?"

 

"She actually encouraged us to get together," Ron admits sheepishly.

 

Harry pinches his nose.

 

"Why him?"

 

"Why not him?"

 

"There are about seven years worth of reasons why. You hated him more than me."

 

Ron coughs.

 

"It was... uh... more unresolved tension mixed with slight lusting than hate. You have to admit he was cute in school too until he opened his mouth."

 

Harry splutters for a bit but doesn't deny it which makes Ron chuckle and gives him hope.

 

"Has he jinxed you? Messed with your memory?" Harry presses.

 

"No! What's gotten into you?"

 

"I don't know, maybe my best friend shows up to my wedding with someone he used to mutter threats to under his breath. And then that best friend defends said person when he insults his sister. Oh! And he's been  _ dating _ the asshole long enough for the blond prat to have given the sister a nickname! Why didn't you tell me when you started dating him?"

 

"I didn't think I had to tell you everything I did in my life. And I meant to tell you when it got serious and I introduced him to my family!"

 

"You don't have to tell me everything. But you used to."

 

Ron sighs tiredly. Harry looks as strung out as he feels.

 

"Why are you taking this so personally?"

 

"Because it's Malfoy! His bloody Aunt tortured Hermione and  _ killed _ Sirius, or did you forget that!? How about the time he called Hermione a mudblood? Or the time that he acted stupid, got hurt and then got his father to convince the Ministry to put down Buckbeak? Oh and how he treated you while his ‘poor arm’ healed? Do I even need to mention that he let Death Eaters into Hogwarts?!" Harry speaks loudly not quite yelling yet but loud enough to be startling.

 

"The sins of his family aren't his to bear. You gave him enough forgiveness to spare his life but not enough for him to date me?"

 

Harry looks away from him. And Merlin does Ron hate himself for causing that hurt look on Harry's face.

 

"Look I'm sorry. I should have just gone stag when I forgot to tell you. I fucked up. I'm sorry. Talk to me?" Ron begs fighting the urge to grab Harry’s hand.

 

"It's Draco, Ron."

 

"I know. And while he is an ass, he's my happy ending."

 

Harry snorts disbelievingly.

 

"Don't delude yourself."

 

Ron takes a deep breath. This conversation is turning out to be much like the one they had before the start of Fifth-Year, without Hermione's calm. Neither he nor Harry have the best temper, so he should end this before one of them says something unforgivable.

 

"I'm not deluding myself, Harry. We're happy together, mate. And I'm sorry you found out like this," he says running a hand through his hair. Hopefully, that will be enough, "Let me say goodbye to my family and we'll get out of your hair. Tonight is your's and Ginny's and you don't need us mucking things up."

 

He starts to head toward the tent, intent on salvaging what he can of the disaster that he made. Fuck he can't do anything right, can he?

 

"If you think Draco loves you, you're stupider than Draco ever thought you were. He uses people, you know that, plus he's an ass."

 

Ron stops, frustration bubbling.

 

"Fuck you, Harry, you got your happy ending now let me have mine," he whispers shakily. Because his back is to Harry he doesn't see Harry recoil like he's been slapped.

 

"Draco won't be a happy ending!"

 

The side of Ron’s neck where those words are inked into his skin burn to the point where he nearly stumbles, his body shakes as he walks the rest of the way to the tent. He wants to scream, to cry but his throat hurts too badly to do more than breathe. Barely able to whisper an apology to Ginny for causing a scene he isn’t too sure how he makes it past Harry, other than the fact that Draco is holding his hand. Harry opens his mouth as they pass like he wants to say something, but no words come out. Ron holds onto Draco like the blond is the only thing keeping him in the land of the living. Was there ever a case where the words were said but a Soulmate didn’t die? Was he going to die and leave Draco alone? Was Harry going to die? Godric’s sweaty asshole, he doesn’t want that. He  _ really _ doesn’t want that. How they get to his flat he doesn’t know. All he knows is that his world is breaking. All he knows is Draco is there, wiping away his tears.

 

“It’s okay Weasel. I’m here, I’m here, Let it all out,” Draco whispers and Ron wants to laugh. The person his best mate said wouldn’t be his happy ending is still with him, holding him while he cries. And he’s been told he’s an ugly crier; snot, drool, the whole nine yards. He stains clothing, and yet Draco doesn’t care. When his tears have run out and he’s left feeling empty, Draco pulls his robes off, which is hard to do with Ron clinging to him. Right above Draco’s heart are two phrases, the blond takes Ron’s hand encouraging him to run his fingers over the words. The words don’t register in his mind but Ron recognizes the writing on Draco’s chest. Dazedly he traces the words, listening to his boyfriend’s voice as the blond tells him stories of his youth. The stories are empty of Draco’s father and aunt and slowly Ron relaxes to the point of falling asleep. No nightmares plague him that night, instead, he dreams actual dreams.

 

Later that night Hermione comes in with Viktor on her arm. The frizzy haired Witch walks to Ron’s room wanting to check up on him. They are asleep on the bed and Ron looks so small curled into Draco. The blond has a possessive hand in Ron’s hair. She startles when a flash goes off. The couple on the bed grumble but do not wake.

 

“Sorry. Is not good?” Viktor asks, still holding up his camera. The Bulgarian had taken to taking pictures at the wedding like a niffler to shiny things. She kisses his lips.

 

“Is very good,” she says against them.

 

“Good.”

 

That picture will be the first of many taken, to be placed in an album. A link to the past. Time moves quickly and a month passes before Hermione approaches him. The way she moves, like he is an animal that has been on its own for far too long and will attack without a moment's notice, puts him on edge.

 

“Harry want… Merlin I can’t I’ve been reduced to this again,” she starts off. Ron cuts her off.

 

“You don’t have to be an owl. You can tell him I’m alive and well,” he says, “or you can let him stew. It wasn’t right of us to use you like that Fourth-Year and it sure as hell ain’t right now.”

 

She laughs cupping his face.

 

“When did you get so smart?”

 

“When I started listening to you.”

 

They laugh, Ron basking in the fact he got her to smile. Hermione removes her hand from his face and sighs.

 

“He’s worried about you. I told him not to be and for him to just talk to you. Ginny is a bit angry at him for taking your spat so far.”

 

“Tell her not to be, please? I don’t want to put any stress on their marriage. The tiff isn’t worth it,” he pleads.

 

Hermione gives him a look that says she doesn’t believe him.

 

“Okay,” she agrees with a tired nod.

 

Ron grimaces a bit.

 

“Fuck I suck at not letting you be an owl. You don’t have to do that. She’s my sister, I can send an actual owl or catch her at the Burrow.”

 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind sending  _ one _ message,” she assures him before smirking, “How  _ have  _ you been? I haven’t seen you around the flat much lately.”

 

The ginger beams, his face turning a bright red.

 

“I’ve been staying at Draco’s. They sold the manor, did you know that? After his dad was jailed. He has a flat in the pricier part of London that he shares with his mum,” he tells her, “We were… I…”

 

“You want to move in with him but don’t want to leave me if rent will be a problem?”

 

He gapes at her.

 

“Blimey, ‘Mione how’d you know?”

 

Hermione winks at him playfully.

 

“Lucky guess. I am so happy for you.”

 

They sit and talk; about the impending move, about Viktor, about everything. It almost heals the gaping hole inside him.

 

_ It’s amazing how wonderful life can be _ , Ron thinks two weeks later. Draco and him have found the perfect two bedroom house that comes with a nice yard. He’s surprised by how close it is to his parent's place but it’s not too close so it’s all good. Finalizing all the paperwork takes a few days but when all is said and done he is as hopeful as Draco looks. This is their new start, their life is ahead of them.

 

Time passes like a dream. Idyllic and practically perfect in every way. Hermione pops in at least once every two weeks. He wonders what it says about him that he needs her to confirm what the others say. That he doesn’t trust his mum, Ginny or George to tell him the truth if Ginny ever does snap and kill Harry. From the letters, his sister sends him Harry’s temper has been flaring up more often than not because of his work and that has him worried. Because even if he can’t bring himself to write Harry or speak to him, Harry is still his friend. And sure part of Ron aches at how thin their friendship is stretched, and boy does he wish that he didn’t feel like having a panic attack every time he picked up a quill to write to Harry, but he also wants Harry to be the one to reach out. He said his apologies, and he has Draco and his home and his job, he doesn’t need Harry. The best thing to come out of all this, minus the obvious, are that his nightmares have almost completely stopped.

 

Seven months after Ginny’s wedding his mother calmly throws a curveball.

 

“Did you know, our family has a history of the gene?”

 

“What gene?” Ron hears Draco ask over the sound of the air in his lungs freezing. He sees his mum put down her fork.

 

“The gene. The one that almost exclusively affects purebloods. Didn’t your- no I suppose your father wouldn’t tell you. Our strong pool of magic from generations of breeding with other pureblood families causes a mutation you see. It’s a recessive gene so it’s very rare and very dangerous for those who have it if they are male,” she rambles, Arthur clears his throat with a fond smile.

 

“Oh! Sorry, I find it a bit fascinating. Basically, dearie, some pureblood males can bear children.”

 

All around the table, there are looks of shock. Percy is the first one to speak breaking the silence. He’s been more active since the wedding. A little birdie- Hermione- told him that Percy got a kiss from Oliver.

 

“What are the chances of  _ us _ ,” he gestures at his brothers, “having it?”

 

“Very high. I have it, not that it does much for me,” Molly tells them before raising an eyebrow, “You lot have been using protection right?”

 

“Mum!”

 

Maybe they were testing fate that night, talking of children and the intricacies of giving birth before falling into bed. They have sex, slow and passionate. Draco worshipping Ron’s body until they both climax. And yes they do use protection, for that round and the rounds after as well. But condoms can break.

 

Ron clutches the toilet bowl as his dinner from last night threatens to come back up. The smell of coffee is still strong in the air making him heave. It’s been two weeks of this, of his stomach revolting at the smell of certain foods. At first, he had thought it was a stomach virus but now he’s worried. His mum is in the kitchen, he can hear her puttering around hopefully getting rid of the coffee. He whines lowly wishing that Draco was here and not at work.

 

“Come on, up you get,” him mum whispers helping him stand, “I think it’s time we head to St. Mungo’s.”

 

There is a knowing look in her eyes that Ron misses as he tries not to throw up on their feet.

 

St. Mungo’s is not a place Ron likes. At all. The sterile scent, the too cheery staff, the unhappy patients, it all gets him. But he weathers it all along with the poking and prodding. The make him pee in a cup and take blood samples. The verdict of pregnant is startling but better than the increasingly horrid options his mind was coming up with. The Healer smiles at Ron as he stares at the results of the quick analysis of his blood that showed his pregnancy.

 

“Now since you’re male, your pregnancy counts as high risk. We’ll want you to come back once a week to make sure nothing is wrong,” the Healer says, “I would like to do an ultrasound now. Is that okay?”

 

Ron nods eagerly. His shirt is pulled up and a cold gel is placed on his belly. The Healer moves her wand about to find his baby and then projects into the air. A sound fills the room that reminds Ron of waves on a beach. The Healer lets him marvel at the sound before pointing out a tiny thing.

 

“It appears that you are about eight weeks along. Your baby is about sixteen millimeters long.”

 

The Healer then drones on about the dangers of male pregnancies, the increased chance of miscarriages, the false baby, the required c-section and return visits to make sure that everything is out afterward. He half listens as he stares at the sixteen-millimeter speck that is his child, that is Draco’s child. That night he waits for Draco nervously. While they had, on and off, talked about children, neither of them had voiced whether they wanted them or not.

 

“Ron? Are you okay?” The worried voice of his lover reaches his ears.

 

“I’m pregnant,” he blurts out.

 

In a gesture both of their mums would call overly romantic while cooing, Draco sweeps him up and swings him around with a laugh.

 

“So, I take it you’re happy?” Ron asks shyly once his feet are on the ground.

 

“Very. I was so very scared that something was majorly wrong. We may not have planned for a baby but it’s better than you dying.”

 

Despite the many medical problems circling in his mind, Ron feels like he’s flying high. His mum promised to let him tell the others the good news. So they spend the rest of the night between eating planning who to tell first. Narcissa is the obvious first choice, then the rest of the Weasley clan plus Hermione of course. When it comes time for bed Ron melts under the soft petting of his stomach that Draco absentmindedly starts.

 

“Do you care what gender the baby is?” he asks sleepily, whining when Draco stops the slow movements of his hand.

 

“A boy would be easier but…”

 

“But?”

 

“Having a girl would be nice.”

 

Ron hums in agreement images of children that are perfect mixtures of him and Draco running around dance merrily in his head. It makes his heart flutter pleasantly.

 

“There… there is a chance that our baby may not be a baby,” Ron whispers telling Draco what was told to him. That since they are both males there is a chance that the baby could actually be a parasitic mass of cells masquerading as a child, growing and mimicking all the stages.

 

“Don’t,” Draco says squeezing Ron to him, “our child will be just that, a child.”

 

Ron falls asleep curled into his lover, dreaming of little children playing in their home.

 

Huffing, Ron plops down into the rocking chair that Viktor of all people brought in for him to sit in; it's been a month since his first ultrasound and his family has been beyond overprotective. To prove this point, Ginny steps into the hallway with a quilt that she places on his lap.

 

"I'm twelve weeks pregnant, not an invalid," he grumbles, snuggling into the quilt.

 

"Male pregnancies are dangerous. No unneeded stress, the doctor said. So, sit down and let them do the work," Ginny says gesturing through the magically enlarged door at the many Weasley's gathered to help set up the nursery. Inside the room, George is busy at work turning the once off white walls a soft yellow. A  paint war had been started but quickly stopped when Fleur managed to get both George and Draco almost completely covered. She is, of course, the least paint splattered.

 

“I am just saying zat ze baby, if zey are a girl, would look best in dresses,” the French Witch says to Angelina as they set up the dresser.

 

“You can’t run in a dress, or play in them.”

 

“A baby need not run, non? Just be comfortable.”

 

The two continue to argue playfully about the merits of certain baby clothing.  Ron smiles and lets the other conversations wash over him.

 

“That protection charm is actually against regulations, but I can give you one that is just as good,” Percy’s voice catches his attention for a moment. He sees Bill nod before naming more spells and charms for Percy to reject or replace. Draco throws out a few himself from his wall far away from George. Ron doesn’t recognize any of the spells but he trusts them not to use any that will be dangerous. He laughs when he spots Oliver bringing in Quidditch supplies.

 

“Never too early to get them into the game,” he says with a smile that grows when Percy gives him a fond look. With everyone busy doing their own thing and his warden- Ginny- missing, Ron slips out of the quilt and picks up a spare paintbrush.

 

“Ronald Bilius Weasley, you put that brush down.”

 

He freezes, looking over to see two unimpressed Witches staring at him. Hermione is standing next to Ginny, both are holding trays of food and drinks.

 

“I just want to help,” he whines.

 

“I will tell mum and Draco’s mum if you don’t sit down.”

 

Both grandmums to be have mastered the art of guilting or bribing Ron into less ‘stressful’ habits, nursing his dislike of being useless with baked goods. And really, the alliance between the two is a force to be reckoned with, without the bribes. Hermione smiles at him.

 

“You wouldn’t want us to tell them not to make all your favorites, would you?” she asks him as he sits down, sulking.

 

“Dragons are totally gender neutral. It’ll be the best crib ever!”

 

“No.”

 

“Don’t be a stick in the mud. I bet it will keep the nightmares away.”

 

The three out in the hall watch as Charlie hugs a box, a dragon-themed crib that Ron would ease a child to sleep. Ginny hands Ron her tray and goes to join Draco in arguing against the crib. Viktor and Arthur choose that moment to come into the room. The Bulgarian takes one look at the dragon crib and starts to unload the box he carried in. It’s a sensible wooden crib that Ron approves of wholeheartedly. In fact…

 

“He saw you eyeing it the other day,” Hermione whispers, squinting at the item his dad is holding up. It’s adorable and Ron loves it already, even if it’s one of the few enchanted muggle items he has stashed about. The general chaos is soothing, he can almost forget that Harry isn’t here with Ginny. At the end of the day the nursery is finished and there are plans for a small garden for Ron to putter around in.

 

“Just what the doctor ordered, it gets you out in the sun, gives you something to do and isn’t draining,” George says after delivering the horrible news that Ron is now on leave from work. Overprotective gits the lot of them! He wanders over to Draco who is talking to Hermione, definitely not sulking.

 

“I’ll see what I can do. No promises.”

 

“Thank you,” Draco whispers kissing her cheek in thanks.

 

“Don’t thank me yet.”

 

Ron waits for Hermione to leave before leaning into his lover. They have the house to themselves now.

 

“What was that about?” he asks.

 

“A possible surprise for you,” Draco says with a smirk dragging the unresistant redhead into their room. They’re relaxing in bed after a round of sex when Ron voices a thought.

 

“What do you think about the name Rose?”

 

“If the baby is a ginger like you, it will fit her perfectly.”

 

Ron hums happily.

 

“Do you have any names you want?”

 

“Scorpius.”

 

“Scorpius?”

 

“It’s a cool, strong name,” Draco says with a sleepy chuckle. Ron grins.

 

“I like it,” he mumbles before falling asleep.

 

Days come and go, his garden becomes a place of comfort when it’s plotted out. Another thing he comes to enjoy is walking. The sounds and smells of the country are soothing as is the fact he can walk a good way before running into a neighbor.

 

His nightmares have gone down with the move and Ron wonders if it is the move or the fact that he has Draco by his side every night. There are nights when his nightmares batter him without end, normally full moon nights. It’s on one of these nights that he feels the baby move. It’s a beautiful thing on a nasty night. He’s twenty-two weeks along and it still amazes him that he has a child growing inside of him. His hand rests on the spot where his baby kicked him.

 

“Hey there little one,” he whispers mindful of Draco sleeping next to him. 

 

“You know little one, your papa and I, we had a hard life. But you won’t. There won’t be any Dark Lords or wars. Everything will be good and we will make sure you know you can come to us for anything. You won’t have the same fears I had.”

 

Darker fears of things he will die to make sure his child never has to deal with dance on his tongue but he won’t speak them. Why speak of dark things when the life his child will have will be bright?

 

“Can the baby hear you this early?” Draco asks sleepily, waking to Ron telling stories about their time at Hogwarts. Ron’s hand twitches giving away his surprise at Draco speaking.

 

“They can, they won’t be able to respond for another three to four weeks though.”

 

The blond grins, rubbing the slowly growing baby bump. It’s relaxing, laying there with Draco’s hand rubbing patterns on his stomach. The moon shines brightly bringing Ron’s thoughts back to bright things.

 

“Do you think he’s really dead?” he asks.

 

“Who?”

 

“Greyback. Do you think he’s really dead?”

 

“He has to be right? Surely he would be causing chaos if he wasn’t.”

 

Ron shrugs as best as he can laying down, snuggling into Draco. He doesn’t tell the blond that he’s been hearing stories. That his friends from his days as an Auror have been talking about attacks and stressing what Ginny has been saying about Harry. It’s just him being paranoid, he tells himself.

 

“I hope so,” he says instead.

 

Draco kisses his head.

 

“As do I. Now sleep, there might be a surprise for you tomorrow.”

 

“A fun surprise?”

 

“Just sleep.”

 

Ron tries to sleep, he does. But like every full moon night, Fenrir Greyback invades his sleep. Torturing him as Bellatrix tortures Hermione. The back arching pain hadn’t lasted long but it still haunts him. Why the werewolf thought he could, he would say anything escapes him. Maybe he had known Ron couldn’t, wouldn’t, talk and that just made it fun for the beast. But because of the nightmares, Ron is up with the sun. Draco stays home, spoiling Ron with breakfast in bed. If this is his surprise he’ll be a happy man. The fact that Draco loved him enough to include the mixture of caramel and hot sauce he has come to crave on the side of his plate is a plus. By the time that noon rolls around Ron is more than ready for a nap. Lunch sits heavy on his stomach and he’s practically falling asleep where he sits. That is of course when someone knocks on the door.

 

Draco is up and at the door before Ron can sit up from his sprawled position.

 

“Glad you could make it,” he hears Draco say, though he doesn’t sound very glad.

 

“Thank you for having me.”

 

Ron swallows thickly, forcing himself to sit up. He knows that voice. Knows that forced polite tone that Harry uses when he doesn’t want to do something. But what is Harry doing here? Ron bites his lip going over reasons why Harry could be here. Maybe something happened to Ginny! The panic is building in his chest until his lover and Harry walk into the room. Draco has his scheming look on his face and Harry doesn’t look like he has terrible news to deliver. Acting the part of a gentleman Draco waits for Harry to sit before sitting himself. Ron stares at his best friend, the words he wants to say getting stuck in his throat. It’s like his words are peanut butter, sticking to his throat and the roof of his mouth choking back the yells he wants to let out. A small part of him wants to stand up and hug his friend. He compromises with himself and smiles instead.

 

Harry is frowning, taking him in like he’s a victim of a crime instead of a friend. Poor Draco is left to fill the air with small talk, and while Harry talks to Draco he won’t talk or even look at Ron. And maybe it’s petty of him but Ron wants  _ needs _ , Harry to bridge the gap, to maybe prove he is a fool for thinking he has The-Boy-Who-Lived as a Soulmate. Harry, however, is just as stubborn as Ron so no words are exchanged between them.

 

Ron feels his stomach turn to lead the longer that Harry ignores him. After a while he stands, one hand going to his stomach the other to the arm of the couch. The fact that his balance is shot so early in the pregnancy doesn’t bode well for the later months.

 

“I’m going for a walk,” he tells his lover with a quick kiss on the lips. He tells himself that it doesn’t hurt that Harry looks away from him like he’s disgusted with him. So defeated, Ron slinks out of his own home. He walks until his legs burn, his skin is flushed and the ground looks like the softest bed. The grass is soft, he is pleased to note as he lays down, sprawled out just enjoying the fresh air. He snorts, laughing at how sad it is that he was chased out of his own home. That thought follows him as he falls asleep, taking the nap he had wanted before Harry showed up.

 

When he wakes the sky is dark. He cringes realizing he slept far too long and Draco is probably beyond worried. Standing takes some effort, his back and neck not too pleased with his nap place. He dusts himself off and starts the walk home, trying to fight off his paranoia. The sound that escapes his mouth when hands land on his shoulders is neither manly nor quiet and maybe he deserves the laughter he gets.

 

“Oh, shut up,” he mutters fondly, pushing on Draco’s shoulder. He’s scolding himself for being so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the blond in front of him.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Draco says not looking sorry at all, “I got worried when you didn’t come back. You left me with Potter. At least when you were there I could imagine doing things to you.

 

Ron rolls his eyes fondly, placing a kiss on Draco’s cheek. They walk side by side back toward the house. It makes him feel more secure.

 

“So, Harry was my surprise?” he asks cuddling into his lover’s side.

 

“Yes, I was hoping that since he accepted the invitation to the house he would talk to you. Instead, he small talks me.  _ Small talks _ , Ron. And when you left he grilled me like I was on trial! Don’t leave me alone with him again Weasel. I don’t think I can handle it,” Draco moans.

 

Ron throws back his head and laughs loudly. The full moonlight gives them enough visibility to see the walking path home. They are half way home when the howling begins. Ron flashes back to Third-Year when they found out Lupin was a werewolf. _Run,_ his mind whispers, _you’re being hunted. Run! Get home._ **_Run_** , it’s repeated over and over, Draco voicing the thought as well. They run, Draco with his wand out ready to fight and Ron cursing the fact he left his at home. He swears, hoping against hope that they make it home. His hope is dashed when he stumbles, crying out as his stomach seizes and cramps. Fire spreads throughout his abdomen and his lungs refuse to work.

 

All his focus is on the pain and what it could mean so he doesn’t hear the howls closing in on him or Draco yelling. Something hits him like a train; biting, tearing, burning him. He screams shrilly, trying to fight off the furry body on top of him. It leaves him gasping, panting, crying and too out of it to know much of anything going on around him. He thinks he hears Draco scream in pain. Thinks he hears the sounds of a scuffle. He wants to help, wants to do something other than lay there in pain.

 

“Stay away from him you son of a bitch,” he hears Draco snarl before the sky lights up with green light.  _ It’s so pretty _ his sluggish mind thinks. Then Draco is there above him, bleeding from claw marks on his face and a bite mark on his throat.

 

“Ron? Ron, look at me. Weasel, please.”

 

He tries, oh how he tries to keep his eyes on Draco. But… But he’s so tired, and he hurts and wouldn’t it be so much easier to just sleep?

 

“No. Come on Weasel, no sleeping on me.”

 

“I’m going to die aren’t I?” Ron asks with a slur in his voice, Draco grimaces.

 

“No, no, you aren’t. Help has to be on the way.”

 

With that said Draco starts to move away, and Merlin does that cause Ron’s heart to pound.

 

“Don’t leave me alone… please… I don’t want to die alone.”

 

The blond settles back down, hugging Ron to him. A happy sigh escapes the redhead. That is so much better, he’s warmer now… and is that a hand running through his hair? And light little kisses on his cheek?

 

“I won’t leave you ever again, Weasel,” Draco whispers with a sob. Ron smiles, shakily raising a hand to cup Draco’s face. His neck is burning and he wants to speak, to reassure his Ferret that everything will be fine but he’s so tired. Draco turns his face into the hand and kisses it. With one last shuddering breath, Ron closes his eyes. Vaguely he hears Fred calling out to him, telling him it’s time to leave.

 

_ I’m coming, Fred. Got a lot of stories to tell you when I get there. _

 


End file.
